


Come to the Table

by Hezjena2023



Series: Silver!Verse - Royal Prerogative [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: 'peace talks', F/F, Femslash, Fingering, Hate Fuck, Kinktober 2020, Oneshot, Queens, Rarepair, Silver!Verse, enemies to well still enemies but now they're banging, prompt - gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023
Summary: The peace talks were not going well. They had not been going well and Queen Anora of Ferelden predicted that they would continue to not go well.Across the table from her, the Orlesian Empress Celene, was cutting up a fig with a knife and fork. Carving the fruit into thin slivers and popping the delicate burgundy flesh between her painted lips. She was fresh from an Inquisition foiled assassination and had finally dragged her country from a Civil War.Anora hated her, she was quite certain.***There’s more than one way to get the Empress of Orlais to shut up.
Relationships: Anora Mac Tir/Celene Valmont
Series: Silver!Verse - Royal Prerogative [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182290
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19
Collections: Fen'Harem's Dragon Age Kinktober 2020





	Come to the Table

The peace talks were not going well. They had not been going well and Queen Anora of Ferelden predicted that they would continue to not go well. 

Across the table from her, the Orlesian Empress Celene, was cutting up a fig with a knife and fork. Carving the fruit into thin slivers and popping the delicate burgundy flesh between her painted lips. She was fresh from an Inquisition foiled assassination and had finally dragged her country from a Civil War. But, the way she was sat, cutting the fig into shreds brought Anora’s nerves on edge. 

Celene was intent and precise in her movements, as though used to being watched and judged, every motion a dance as she an actress upon the stage. 

Anora hated her, she was quite certain, or at least she hated the spectre of the woman that she’d found stamped across her dead husband’s letters. She couldn’t help comparing herself to Celene, the precise shade of her hair, the curve of her breast, the fullness of her lip. Celene was attractive, that much was certain. 

But the real Celene, like the conjured spectre was intangible, neither was quite like the other. Maybe she didn’t have to hate her. 

"You know your husband offered me a marriage alliance?" Celene said in a far too conversational tone for such a statement. Her expression hidden by the heavy set mask of state that she wore.

She hated her, Anora corrected, tightening her fingers into fists on her lap. She’d like to get her hands on the Empress, press her up against a wall and… "Yes." The Queen replied stiffly, "I had." 

Celene rested her knife and fork against the porcelain plate set on a grand mahogany table. There were twelve chairs empty, but as there were only the two monarchs in the room, either taking the opposite heads of the table there was a gulf between them. Filled up with ugly stumpy candlesticks and bowls of fruits and flowers. 

Celene’s gilted mask looked up, obscuring her from forehead to nose. "I find myself curious, was he actually good in bed, you never had children so I can only assume-?" 

Anora felt her blood boil, "I’d rather not speak of it." 

"A shame, if he had told me he had such a pretty wife, I might have agreed to meet." 

She didn’t quite have it in her to be shocked at Celene’s statement. She’d heard the rumours coming out of Orlais of their Empress’ preferences, Anora had even encouraged the rumours, behind hand and fan to bluster her own claim. And lay to bed the stain on her reputation that was hidden in her dead husband’s letters. 

"Excuse me." Anora returned, folding her napkin from her lap and placing it by her barely touched meal. Whatever the truth was, she wouldn’t sit there quietly to be teased by the Empress. 

"Our negotiations are going nowhere, your majesty, perhaps, we should try a different game of diplomacy?"

"I don’t want to play games with a woman in a mask." Anora snapped, before drawing back. Celene had already gotten under her skin, but she can at least be polite about it, so she threw out the Empress’ honourific to placate her. "Your radiance." 

For a moment neither of them moved, weighing up the other. Celene broke the statuesque stance she’d been holding, slipped her mask from her face and tossed it across the table. It came to rest between them, "and now?"

Even though Celene was rather elegant to look at, a handsome figure swathed in blue velvet. But, the crux of the matter was simple, Celene was Orlesian. "For the good of Southern Thedas, we must come to peace, but I have no interest in an alliance with you." Anora told her directly. 

"Come now," Celene purred, "I understand alliances can be mutually beneficial, pleasurable even. And since we are here, you have no husband."

"What is your point?"

"Neither do I."

Disdainfully as Anora worked out her game, she said, "I won’t marry you." 

The Empress smiled just a little, white teeth flashing behind rosy lips. "Who said anything about marriage?" 

"Then," Anora pressed her palms together, trying to school her patience for this infuriating woman that would never just say what she meant. Her wants were a riddle to be figured out and the reward was supposed to be satisfactory in itself. Anora had yet to be satisfied in Orlais, though that didn’t stop her asking, "what are you suggesting?"

"Must I spell it out?"

"To avoid miscommunication, I believe you must." Anora snapped, thinking of how Celene was so painfully Orlesian, "if you want to fuck me, you should ask." 

The Empress’ pink tongue poked out to wet painted lips. "May I fuck you?"

"I’d rather have the Queen of Antiva." Anora returned in a droll tone.

Matching her sarcasm Celene agreed, "alas, she is not here and not a particularly fun bedfellow, very serious and very clingy. This would just be for the evening." Celene shrugged, making her offer like commenting on the weather. 

Logically, Anora knew she should walk away. Return to her lodgings, get some sleep to face the next round of talks in the morning. But, despite herself, she was intrigued. Her gaze passed over Celene again, for the first time not searching for what Cailan might have seen in her. This time, looking for herself. "Right." 

Celene picked up an odd shaped candlestick with a bulbous end. With a pop she pulled the wax out and discarded it, "do you still like the feel of a cock in you when you come?" She toyed the metal implement in her hand. "It is not a cock, but it shall suffice." 

Anora laughed, she lent forward on the back of her chair. "What exactly makes you think I want you in me?"

"Well you haven’t left yet." 

She closed her eyes, that was true. She strode quickly down past the empty chairs to Celene’s side. "You are sure of yourself." She chastised the Empress, bent a little to take her chin in her hand and angle her up so Anora could kiss her. 

Celene was surprised, but reacted quickly, her lips tasted of ripe fig and tart berry wine. She smelt like her powders and rich perfumes, but her lips felt like the velvet of her dress. Soft and all consuming. 

Breaking the kiss, Celene could only give the Queen an insufferably smug look, "I am very sure of myself." 

Anora pursed her lips, nodded slightly at Celene and began simply clearing the table from around her. Moving plates, bowls and the other awful candlesticks away as she finished she turned back to Celene still sat regally in her dining chair, "you’ve miscalculated, your Radiance." 

Celene raised an eyebrow. 

Undoing the top bottom of her dress, Anora reached into her bodice to pull out a clean handkerchief, softly she touched Celene’s lower lip. "Open your mouth." It took Celene a moment to comply, but when she did, Anora stuffed the fabric into the Empress’ mouth. "I want fuck you, but you will be quiet, or I’ll stop."

The Empress answered with a moan in the back of her throat that Anora took as agreement. 

She picked up the last candlestick, plucking it from Celene’s grip and discarding it too on the floor, "unnecessary." She murmured. Before she dropped her lips to Celene’s ear, she licked the lobe and breathed, "get on the table and pull your skirts up." 

There was a crimson stain spreading across Celene’s pale complexion, the blush so bright that it shone through the layer of powder. Her eyelids were heavy as she slowly did as she was told, seemingly uncostumed to taking orders. 

Celene bit down on the handkerchief gag stuffed into her mouth and reaching down to pluck up the hem of her skirt, gazing at Anora with wide curious eyes as she lifted it inch by painful inch. 

Anora stood back, her arms crossed over her chest, to watch. To evaluate her own feelings, this wasn’t what Anora expected, but seeing the curve of Celene’s stockinged knee had a nice pleasant warmth of revenge about it. Though, by the time she saw the unblemished flesh of her thigh, Anora was sure she was doing this for no one but herself; and she buried the thought that Celene had somehow planned this. 

As Celene pulled her skirts around her hips, she revealed that the Empress wasn’t wearing any smalls, the bitch had definitely planned this. 

There was a groan from Celene as Anora’s fingers unhooked the garter at her thigh holding the dagger, and Celene made a muffled sound as the knife was thrown out of reach across the table.

Anora slapped the inside of Celene’s thigh, hard enough to leave a faint mark and enough to bring her attention solely on the Queen. Huskily, she whispered, "I told you to be quiet." 

Celene narrowed her eyes to a glare, but her hips buckled forward, fabric washing against the polished wood as she did so. 

Running her hand up the inside of Celene’s leg, Anora’s fingertips found Celene wet. "Look at that," Anora whispered as her fingers stilled and she watched slightly awed, as the spread woman bucked onto her hand. "You look delightful." 

With her mouth gagged open, Celene only blinked once, slowly, poignantly. Before moving her own hands forward to take the front of Anora’s gown, her fingers unhooking the row of tiny buttons and opening the front of her bodice. With a hand groping for Anora’s breast, nail scraping lightly over her nipple, Celene gasped around the folded fabric gag in her mouth, her words nonsensical. "Mmm."

Anora lent forward, pushing her back into the table and placing herself between Celene’s spread legs. Then, she frowned and raised a single eyebrow. 

"Mmfff," Celene begged, nodding her head and pleading with wide eyes to the Queen of Ferelden. 

Removing her hand from where she’d been pleasuring the Empress, Anora stroked Celene’s cheek soothingly, leaving a wet streak across her cheekbone. "Shhhhh." 

She saw Celene’s teeth bite into the gag and nod furiously, before her head tipped back and her eyes drifted closed, waiting. 

Anora considered licking up the streak on her cheek, just to see what Orlais tasted like. Instead she peppered biting kisses down the line of Celene’s neck, down the low-cut neckline of her dress. Before looking up, "can I trust you to behave?"

Silently, Celene’s eyes flicked open, finding Anora. Confirmation.

With a tiny smirk, a self-satisfied victory Anora returned to her slow work of drawing leisurely circles across Celene’s clit, before pressing a finger into the Empress and glanced up to check that she was alright with this Fereldan invasion. Celene was tight, but sighed against her touch, wriggled her hips, caught between the firm fingers of the cabinet maker’s daughter and the mahogany table. 

Celene had to bite down hard to stop herself from crying out when Anora slipped another finger inside her, and then she started a steady movement. Delicious, lingering and slow pumping that built pace so gradually that Celene was unsure if they’d still be here come morning, stuck in delicious torment. 

Anora had every wish to draw it out; see if she could make the Empress forget and beg. 

Celene made explorations of Anora, a hand in her hair tugging out the tight pulled back style and dragging her face back close. 

She couldn’t kiss her, for the gag in her mouth. Was quite sure she wanted it. But she felt a stir of something when Celene was close enough that she nuzzled her face against the other monarch, breathing in the same thick gasping air. Anora bit her on her neck, sharp teeth digging into tender flesh. 

The Empress didn’t make a sound, but hooked her legs around Anora’s waist, her knees moved together, trying to trap Anora to her. 

So Anora pulled back, and smacked her, a red flush rising on the inside of Celene’s thigh, “keep your legs open.” 

This time Celene made no move to delay, to not obey her. She nodded like some bobbing figurine and hooking her ankles over each edge of the mahogany table. Stretching her open more than she had been before and grinding herself on Anora’s fingers. 

Almost quite suddenly Celene stilled, her hips off the table and her fingers clutched to claws against the polished wooden table. Her eyes glazed over and drifting shut. 

"Look at me, when I make you come." Anora hissed. 

Celene’s eyes flashed open, her nose a breath away from the other woman, her lips parted in a silent plea that the fabric slipped from her lips. But, she looked at Anora, kept her gaze fixed on her as she convulsed and came hard on the Queen’s fingers. 

Still not saying a word, she shuddered only gasping when Anora drew her fingers away. The Empress’ breath was heavy as she recovered herself, her breasts pressed tight against her bodice, she dropped back heavily to the table. 

Celene reached up wrenching the gag from her , her mouth and fingertips running across her neck. "You bit me. You mabari." She accused almost fondly, reaching up to cut off Anora’s reply with a kiss. She pulled Anora’s lip into her mouth and grazed her teeth against the delicate flesh, a payback of sorts. 

"If I’d known that was the quickest way to shut you up, I’d had fucked you senseless five days ago." Anora told her, picking up a discarded napkin and wiping off her fingers. 

"It seems we’ve found some common ground after all." 

"How’d you know it would work?" Anora asked, curious. Body turned slightly away from her, she should wash the evidence of what had just occurred from her hands. Ensure that no one had overheard it. 

Celene for her part seemed unbothered, her tongue poked out over her lips, and told her insincerely, "well it worked on the Queen of Antiva." 

"Where’s that gag gone? I liked you better with it in." Anora started to tidy up to find her lost handkerchief, but Celene caught her by the waist.

"And I liked you better with your fingers in me." Celene retorted, in a quieted, sleepy voice. She stifled a yawn and ran her hand across Anora’s waist to find her breast. "We shall have to come to some arrangement, that was too good to never do again."

"I meant it, I am not marrying you." 

"A shame," Celene murmured, then smirked up at Anora. "Do you want me to show you what I did to the Queen of Antiva to make her so clingy?”

  
  



End file.
